So Blogger still hasn't restored my "store blog". Sooo . . . I made a new one.
I am a closet shopaholic. When I was nesting, RF was fighting off panic that I would buy half the department store's baby section merchandise every time we passed by while malling. As it is, we've some stuff that we had to give away or box up because Oona ended up not using them at all.
Of course, what they are escapes my memory as I've developed a convenient partial amnesia due to the trauma of putting away such cute, but barely used stuff. I am therefore determined, for the rest of Oona's stuff, to get as much mileage as possible. I don't care if she's not going to a party, but by golly! She's going to be wearing those dresses for a walk in the park! Or the lobby for all I care! They're too cute not to be worn and she's going to look cute every day!
Anyhoo . . . my other blog.
Surfing, blog-hopping and subscribing to all those newsletters ran me across so many drool-worthy stuff. I know I can't buy them all, but if I can't, someone else might! And oh the virtual enjoyment of it! I shall *lurve* it vicariously! So I'm posting them all there.
Online window shopping is also a great way to satisfy my love of seeing new things without the threat of bankruptcy. After all, my problem isn't I have to have it! . . . It's more of a girl geekazoid's awe of Ooh! Look! . . . something like that. I also have the habit of buying for people (Oh, my sister would like that!), stocking them as gifts and never mind if their birthday's still in January and it's the middle of May.
I'll have product features, reviews, shops I've gone to with my preggo needs and the results of my world wide web window shopping sprees.
So, pardon the unfinished look of the new place. I'm still painting a few corners and putting up some more shelves, but you're all welcome to drop by and poke around at Luscious Picks!
Friday, September 12, 2008
CALL OUTS FOR BLOG ACTION DAY!
October 15 is the BIG DAY for bloggers, podcasters and videocasters all over the world wide web! It's when all of us talk, post and blog about one topic, create enough noise to be heard about it and hopefully effect a change that would go beyond our computer monitors. This year, the topic is about Poverty. We see enough of it everyday, but what do we do about it?
Ripples, people! Ripples! The power of the written word, bloggers! Pen, mightier than the sword! The spoken word puts ideas into other people's heads! Let's use what we have to bring this issue out and make it possible for our thoughts, ideas and feelings to walk out into the world and into concrete action.
Just one day. Imagine what could happen if we all talked about it, all at the same time! How far would our ripples go? Let's see it touch the lives of people all over the world!
Join us! Click that graphic up there and contribute a little of your time to make that ripple grow!
Thursday, September 11, 2008
THE FIRST NINE MONTHS
I was largely uncomfortable when I was pregnant.
AND uncomfortably large. I ballooned to 200 lbs. and the bad part was that I didn't look pregnant. I just looked FAT.
I also felt so over-heated that I needed the air-conditioning on with the electric fan. RF would swear he was in the Arctic Circle, freezing his butt off while I would be complaining that the Gobi Desert was probably cooler than our room at high noon.
I had food cravings, aversions, mood swings and crying bouts. I'd get irritated with RF but didn't want him out of my sight. I cut off my long hair because it was falling off in alarming amounts. Then I regretted it big time. I felt ugly. I waddled. Nothing would fit me.
Hay! That's not even half of it.
Nevertheless, making my pregnancy album took me back to that time and surprisingly made me laugh. Sure there was pain, nausea and Goddess knows what else, but there were pay-offs that continue to this day.
I'll be sharing the album I made as a series with a trimester-ly write up, not only to share what I and RF went through, but also to help others out there who was as clueless as I was.
AND uncomfortably large. I ballooned to 200 lbs. and the bad part was that I didn't look pregnant. I just looked FAT.
I also felt so over-heated that I needed the air-conditioning on with the electric fan. RF would swear he was in the Arctic Circle, freezing his butt off while I would be complaining that the Gobi Desert was probably cooler than our room at high noon.I had food cravings, aversions, mood swings and crying bouts. I'd get irritated with RF but didn't want him out of my sight. I cut off my long hair because it was falling off in alarming amounts. Then I regretted it big time. I felt ugly. I waddled. Nothing would fit me.
Hay! That's not even half of it.
Nevertheless, making my pregnancy album took me back to that time and surprisingly made me laugh. Sure there was pain, nausea and Goddess knows what else, but there were pay-offs that continue to this day.
I'll be sharing the album I made as a series with a trimester-ly write up, not only to share what I and RF went through, but also to help others out there who was as clueless as I was.
Spam Blogged Out!
I spent the past week and a half fixing up the blogs and setting up a "store" blog. The shopaholic widgets make my pages take forever to load, so I decided to put them all in one shopping page.
Last night, the hardest part was bending the blogger templates to my will, given that there seems to be a quirk with saving my work and an error would appear. But I was able to re-layout the page to make it look like my other pages with extra panels to accommodate a lot of widgets. I spent hours wrestling with CSS code and the usual html/xml mumbo-jumbo.
I went to sleep with a slight headache and my dreams full of frameset=char/script/noscript>.
Then I wake up to THIS --------------------->
AAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaRRRRRRRRgh!
Cue Music: *Psycho Shower Theme*
WTF?!
Apparently the blog I was making made their robots suspicious that a Spam blog was being constructed.
Kasi, I wasn't able to post any articles yet. I was still trying to make sure my Amazon widgets fit and if they looked good on the lay-out. Unfortunately because there were four links to Amazon when I turned in for the night and not much else that personalized the page by way of original content, I got shut down.
So now, I sent an unlock request to Blogger to prove I'm not someone else's robot bent on clogging the search engines and wasting human beings' time. And to further hammer it down to Blogger, I'm blogging about it too while I wait for the requisite 24 hours or so while a human being reviews Luscious Picks!
And if they still shut it down, I'll put up another one! I'll beat their robots' logic yet!
Last night, the hardest part was bending the blogger templates to my will, given that there seems to be a quirk with saving my work and an error would appear. But I was able to re-layout the page to make it look like my other pages with extra panels to accommodate a lot of widgets. I spent hours wrestling with CSS code and the usual html/xml mumbo-jumbo.
I went to sleep with a slight headache and my dreams full of frameset=char/script/noscript>.
Then I wake up to THIS --------------------->AAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaRRRRRRRRgh!
Cue Music: *Psycho Shower Theme*
WTF?!
Apparently the blog I was making made their robots suspicious that a Spam blog was being constructed.
Kasi, I wasn't able to post any articles yet. I was still trying to make sure my Amazon widgets fit and if they looked good on the lay-out. Unfortunately because there were four links to Amazon when I turned in for the night and not much else that personalized the page by way of original content, I got shut down.
So now, I sent an unlock request to Blogger to prove I'm not someone else's robot bent on clogging the search engines and wasting human beings' time. And to further hammer it down to Blogger, I'm blogging about it too while I wait for the requisite 24 hours or so while a human being reviews Luscious Picks!
And if they still shut it down, I'll put up another one! I'll beat their robots' logic yet!
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Oona's Growing Up
Oona's becoming more and more pilya.
Oona with an electrical cord (NYAAA!).
Don't worry, that's not the business end of it. She also doesn't put it in her mouth.
Plus she's well supervised. So lay off the lecture, self-righteous people! Get off my blog!
Of course, she's still as lovable as ever, and getting more so everyday. She's also developing a sketchy sense of right versus wrong already, but I'll be darned if she actually knows what right or wrong really means. Sometimes she thinks it's a game, until her plans (like opening the kitchen cabinet doors and going through the bigas) is foiled.
She knows that when Lola or Yaya Rina says "No" or starts shaking their heads, it means that whatever she's doing is, er - unadvisable. She merely takes it as a suggestion though. She somehow knows how to get around them by appealing to their tender-hearted natures with a sad, saaaad face.
She'll also appeal to her doting father with the look. I think all babies have that innate ability to look at you and make your insides melt at will. Ooh, POWER!!!
(<--- That's the "I am not amused" deadpan/blank stare.)
She's also developing a few impish tricks of her own.
An example would be, whenever she wants to go to the space behind the sofas (forbidden because we put the electric fan and the cables there, out of her reach), she'll "accidentally" drop a toy there and point to it. As soon as you move the barricades to pick up the toy, she'll make her move! She'll scoot past you on her little butt like greased lightning, laughing all the way! (She can toddle but she can't crawl on her hands and knees.)
Of course, she'll cry at the tragedy of being picked up and put out of harm's way when she's noticed. She'll sniffle a bit but she'll try the trick again...and again...and again.
I think the only way to counter the look is by developing the voice. It's a mother's most powerful tool, next to mom's the stare. Since the stare only seem to affect older kids than Oona (it varies or so I've heard), the voice seem to be a good alternative to develop.
I'm not so hot on spanking my kid, I mean jeez! She just turned one. I'm not about to yell at her either. But I figure we have to aggressively start her on discipline for her own protection. It's about time for her to learn that not everything is safe for her.
So far, when I use the firm tone in the voice she seems to be responding. She'll shake her head and pull her hand away from whatever dangerous thing she's bent on examining.
Then she looks at me. She grins.
. . . And does it again.
Sigh. I have an adorable imp of a daughter.
***
It brings to mind the blog series I wasn't able to finish. The last entry was about how we were just given the news that Oona, then called the Bean, was not attached to my womb securely. There was a threat that we could lose her.
***
The Clinic Chronicles: Part 6
Keeping The Bean
“It’s going to be okay.” The doctor said as she patted my hand. “Just keep on drinking the medicine and taking it easy, alright?”
I just nodded and thanked her as Mr. F helped me out the door. I wanted to escape so badly but needed to keep as much dignity I could muster.
Can you imagine how it’s like to swing from ecstasy to utter despair in the space of a few minutes? I could be schizoid for all I know, but given the circumstances, I would have a legitimate excuse. I now felt like a baseball bat walloped the back of my head, my throat was too tight, and my heart was too big for my chest.
It amazed me how these doctors could take on that kind of responsibility. They literally have their patients’ lives in their hands. They could make or break a person with a few words.
How do they handle it, facing mortality every day?
I think Mr. F and I just went on home afterwards. It was exhausting: exhilaration and the dregs in one unbeatable combination. We just ate something to dull the headachy feeling and talked.
We knew we wanted to keep the Beanie Baby, as the sprout was now called. I’ve stopped smoking (cold turkey since the day before), stopped drinking (last drop of alcohol was the week before), and we agreed that I’d have to stop the helter-skelter pace of my work life.
Curled up on our comforter, we cover random stuff, basically musing about how we would be parents. I wondered which of us would be the disciplinarian and the devil’s advocate. Of course, Mr. F claims to be the spoiler.
“You would be the Supreme Court. I’ll be the Court of Appeals!”
I scoffed at Mr. F.
Right. Like that’s going to happen.
***
Of course now, she's as rambunctious as they come and RF is the spoiler! Hehe!
Time flies so fast!
Oona with an electrical cord (NYAAA!).Don't worry, that's not the business end of it. She also doesn't put it in her mouth.
Plus she's well supervised. So lay off the lecture, self-righteous people! Get off my blog!
Of course, she's still as lovable as ever, and getting more so everyday. She's also developing a sketchy sense of right versus wrong already, but I'll be darned if she actually knows what right or wrong really means. Sometimes she thinks it's a game, until her plans (like opening the kitchen cabinet doors and going through the bigas) is foiled.
She knows that when Lola or Yaya Rina says "No" or starts shaking their heads, it means that whatever she's doing is, er - unadvisable. She merely takes it as a suggestion though. She somehow knows how to get around them by appealing to their tender-hearted natures with a sad, saaaad face.
She'll also appeal to her doting father with the look. I think all babies have that innate ability to look at you and make your insides melt at will. Ooh, POWER!!!(<--- That's the "I am not amused" deadpan/blank stare.)
She's also developing a few impish tricks of her own.
An example would be, whenever she wants to go to the space behind the sofas (forbidden because we put the electric fan and the cables there, out of her reach), she'll "accidentally" drop a toy there and point to it. As soon as you move the barricades to pick up the toy, she'll make her move! She'll scoot past you on her little butt like greased lightning, laughing all the way! (She can toddle but she can't crawl on her hands and knees.)
Of course, she'll cry at the tragedy of being picked up and put out of harm's way when she's noticed. She'll sniffle a bit but she'll try the trick again...and again...and again.
I think the only way to counter the look is by developing the voice. It's a mother's most powerful tool, next to mom's the stare. Since the stare only seem to affect older kids than Oona (it varies or so I've heard), the voice seem to be a good alternative to develop.
I'm not so hot on spanking my kid, I mean jeez! She just turned one. I'm not about to yell at her either. But I figure we have to aggressively start her on discipline for her own protection. It's about time for her to learn that not everything is safe for her.So far, when I use the firm tone in the voice she seems to be responding. She'll shake her head and pull her hand away from whatever dangerous thing she's bent on examining.
Then she looks at me. She grins.
. . . And does it again.
Sigh. I have an adorable imp of a daughter.
***
It brings to mind the blog series I wasn't able to finish. The last entry was about how we were just given the news that Oona, then called the Bean, was not attached to my womb securely. There was a threat that we could lose her.
***
The Clinic Chronicles: Part 6
Keeping The Bean
“It’s going to be okay.” The doctor said as she patted my hand. “Just keep on drinking the medicine and taking it easy, alright?”
I just nodded and thanked her as Mr. F helped me out the door. I wanted to escape so badly but needed to keep as much dignity I could muster.Can you imagine how it’s like to swing from ecstasy to utter despair in the space of a few minutes? I could be schizoid for all I know, but given the circumstances, I would have a legitimate excuse. I now felt like a baseball bat walloped the back of my head, my throat was too tight, and my heart was too big for my chest.
It amazed me how these doctors could take on that kind of responsibility. They literally have their patients’ lives in their hands. They could make or break a person with a few words.
How do they handle it, facing mortality every day?
I think Mr. F and I just went on home afterwards. It was exhausting: exhilaration and the dregs in one unbeatable combination. We just ate something to dull the headachy feeling and talked.
We knew we wanted to keep the Beanie Baby, as the sprout was now called. I’ve stopped smoking (cold turkey since the day before), stopped drinking (last drop of alcohol was the week before), and we agreed that I’d have to stop the helter-skelter pace of my work life.
Curled up on our comforter, we cover random stuff, basically musing about how we would be parents. I wondered which of us would be the disciplinarian and the devil’s advocate. Of course, Mr. F claims to be the spoiler.
“You would be the Supreme Court. I’ll be the Court of Appeals!”
I scoffed at Mr. F.
Right. Like that’s going to happen.
***
Of course now, she's as rambunctious as they come and RF is the spoiler! Hehe!
Time flies so fast!
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